


Priorities

by DestielTheShipOfDreams



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Casifer, Castiel (Supernatural) is Loved, Castiel Feels, Dean Saves Castiel, Dean Uses Actual Words, Determined Dean, Episode: s11e22 We Happy Few, Fix-It, Love Confessions, M/M, One Shot, Sam is the Voice of Reason, Worried Sam, if Dean had been consistently written at the end of S11
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-24
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-12-19 09:41:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11895057
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DestielTheShipOfDreams/pseuds/DestielTheShipOfDreams
Summary: Dean is determined to get Castiel to expel Lucifer, so he manages to get inside the 'bunker kitchen' headspace to plead his case. How can he get through to the angel how much he wants him back? No smut or even kissing but there is fluff and Cas validation.





	Priorities

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this back before 11x22 aired as a wistful wish for the episode. At the time, based on how they were writing Dean, this seemed incredibly plausible. Because they were writing Dean as utterly frantic to get Cas back, pining for him and clearly desperate. Of course, when 11x22 aired we got 'Cas who?' except for one little 'oh what about Cas?' from Dean. Ludicrously inconsistent and clumsy writing. I'm still so salty about it. Anyway, enjoy :)

The gravel crunches as the Impala cruises up the narrow lane. She coasts to a stop by the half-concealed steps and the engine idles for several long seconds, the occupants of the vehicle saying nothing. Eventually, the silence inside the car is broken.

 

“Dean?”

 

Dean tears his anxious eyes away from the steps and stares at his brother, who watches him with concern. “What?”

 

“We gonna go in?”

 

Dean’s gaze wanders back to the bunker entrance. “Surprised it’s still standing.”

 

Sam chuckles tiredly. “Yeah. I guess if God and Lucifer were gonna have a showdown, the bunker is the best place to do it. Looks like they kept it friendly though.”

 

“Still can’t believe you left them in there alone.”

 

Dean’s voice is tight and accusatory and Sam sighs, knowing that his brother’s anger has nothing to do with concern for the building, the Lord Almighty or the Devil.

 

“Dean, I had to come get you, and I had to get Donatello out of there-”

 

“Yeah, you said. Still. Hell of a risk to take.”

 

Sam chooses to wrongly interpret this as Dean still worrying over the bunker, because Dean is starting to piss him off with this brooding, sulking behaviour.

 

“Yeah, well, like you said, the building’s still there. Maybe they decided to let bygones be bygones.”

 

Dean turns back to glare at Sam, eyes sharp and acidic. “Like I care. I don’t give a shit whether Chuck and that asshole have kissed and made up. What I care about is that for some reason, Cas is still being ridden around like a fucking pony by Lucifer. But you know what? It doesn’t matter. We’re gonna fix that, right now.”

 

Sam gapes as Dean wrenches the car door open and clambers out. The taller brother follows a moment later, stammering a response, eyes wide.

 

“Dean, just think for a moment-”

 

“Think? These days I never think about anything else! Neither do you! We’ve spent weeks and weeks researching our asses off trying to get Cas back, and now that we have him we need to damn well do something about it.”

 

Dean is shouting, jabbing his fingers about, red in the face. Sam swallows, reluctant to voice his thoughts and anger Dean further. He speaks anyway.

 

“You were the one researching how to get him back, Dean. I was researching how to defeat the Darkness. And I want Castiel safe too, but let’s be realistic. Amara is the bigger issue here, and we can’t just-”

 

“Fuck Amara! How can you be so cold? This is Cas we’re talking about!”

 

“Yeah, you’ve said-”

 

“So have you,” snarls Dean, stepping forward, fists clenched and shaking. He eyes Sam with the look of a man who’s been deeply betrayed. “You still think we should leave Lucifer in him, don’t you? Still think it’s worth the risk or some shit.”

 

“It is, Dean. I don’t know how many times I have to tell you: Cas chose this. He made an informed decision. He wanted to help. How d’you think he’ll feel if you drag him out of the fight like he’s a misbehaving kid and sit him on the sidelines? Especially if it compromises Lucifer? What if we lose against Amara because you can’t respect Cas’s wishes, Dean? Will he thank you then?”

 

For a moment, Dean looks floored. He breathes hard, staring at his brother, unsure and confused. Then his eyes harden and he sets his jaw.

 

“I ain’t lookin’ for his thanks,” he snaps. “I just want him to stay alive.”

 

“You always do this!” Sam yells, slamming a finger down on the hood of the Impala for emphasis. It’s a mark of Dean’s distress that he doesn’t even notice. “You think that because you love someone you can just swoop in and rescue them, even if they don’t want saving!”

 

Dean and Sam scowl at each other, chests heaving, feet planted. Finally, Dean looks away, back towards the bunker door.

 

“I need him to be OK. If that makes me the bad guy, fine. But I am not just sitting by and watching Cas have his strings pulled by Lucifer, and I’m sure as hell not letting him put his life in danger when it’s Lucifer who’s supposed to be fighting this one. He doesn’t need to be in the firing line. Lucifer can find another vessel.”

 

Sam sighs, deflating at the raw and helpless pain on Dean’s face. “Like who?”

 

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t care. Anyone but you or Cas. Other than that, I really just don’t care.”

 

With that, he turns and marches into the bunker, jaw set. Sam follows, dread pooling in his stomach.

 

They descend the stairs quickly and Sam watches his brother’s shoulders seize up as he sees Chuck and Lucifer sitting calmly at the table, sipping cups of tea. Dean doesn’t break his stride, though, and walks right up to the head of the table, eyes on Chuck. Lucifer watches him with a bored sort of curiosity.

 

“Hi,” says Dean shortly, still not looking at the twisted image of his guardian angel. “You guys all good then?”

 

“Hardly,” snorts Chuck, glancing at his son, who smiles lazily and shrugs. “But we’ve agreed to put aside our differences for now.”

 

“Well, that’s real nice,” says Dean tersely. Sam grimaces.

 

“You seem a little on edge, Dean,” drawls Lucifer, leaning back in his chair, long fingers wrapped comfortably around his mug. Dean flinches before slowly turning his head and staring at the angel, eyes hard.

 

“Yeah,” he grits. “Yeah, that might have a little something to do with the fact that you are wearing my best friend. Still.”

 

He turns back to Chuck, who is peering between them with concern. “Why exactly is that, Chuck? Seems like you could fix this with a snap of your fingers.”

 

Chuck frowns at the tight fury in Dean’s voice, burning behind his steady gaze. He nods slowly. “Yeah, I could.”

 

Dean shuts his eyes as though mustering the dregs of his patience. “So do it.”

 

“No, Dean,” Chuck says in a gentle voice. Dean opens his eyes and practically snarls, clearly about to mouth off to the Creator, and Sam sighs with relief when Chuck cuts him off before he can do so. “I’ve come to value free will too much to take it away from one I admire as much as Castiel. Sam’s right. Castiel chose this. If he wishes to eject Lucifer, Lucifer has agreed to let him without a struggle. Until then, I will not force him out.”

 

Dean opens and then closes his mouth and Lucifer examines the ceiling, a slightly bitter twist to his lips. Chuck sits patiently, regarding Dean with sympathy. Sam feels a little annoyed that Dean totally rejected this argument from him but is clearly giving it more consideration from Chuck. The older Winchester frowns and then speaks in a low voice, something like hope layering the words.

 

“You’ll help if Cas gives his permission?”

 

Chuck nods. “Of course.”

 

“So,” says Dean, optimism shining in his eyes again, “All I have to do is get Cas’s agreement and he’s free of Lucifer?”

 

“Wow, Dean. I’m right here, y’know?” Lucifer complains, but no one responds. Chuck is pursing his lips at Dean, considering. Finally, he nods.

 

“Go to him, then. Make your case. But if he really wants to keep helping Lucifer then you will respect him, Dean.”

 

Both Sam and Dean gulp at the stern authority radiating from Chuck as he says this. Dean nods seriously.

 

“I will. But I can get him to listen.” With that, he turns to Lucifer. “I want to talk to him. Can you, like... go away for a bit? Forever would work best.”

 

Lucifer smiles sweetly up at Dean, eyes glacial. “Go fuck yourself.”

 

“Boys,” interjects Chuck with a grimace, looking so much like a long-suffering father that Sam snorts in spite of himself. The Almighty continues. “You’ll have to enter into Lucifer and Castiel’s shared consciousness, Dean. I can send you there. Sit down, get comfy.”

 

Dean looks as though entering into a shared consciousness is one of the least likely things to ever appear on his to do list, but after sharing a glum look with a worried Sam, he shrugs and drops into a chair. Lucifer rolls his eyes and then sets his mug down on the table, leaning back in his own seat.

 

“I feel violated already,” he complains, a sharpness underlying his flippant tone. Chuck ignores him and he pouts before meeting Dean’s eyes. He lowers his lashes at the human. “You’ll be gentle, won’t you Dean?”

 

Dean actually blushes, glancing away awkwardly, and Sam shudders a little, not wanting to know how confused Dean must be right now. The suggestive tone and bedroom eyes are strange coming from what looks and sounds like Cas, but for Sam it’s just mildly creepy. For Dean it must be like the most twisted realisation of a fantasy ever.

 

“Alright,” intones Chuck calmly, blue eyes serene. “Dean, call out to me when you want to wake up. I’ll hear you.”

 

Sam feels like this is all happening way too fast; they should have researched this more, Dean should be weighing up the risks instead of just leaping into Lucifer’s head. But ‘saving’ Cas has become some sort of obsession for him. Sam thinks back to the vague summary he got of Purgatory, how even in the few words Dean spared for describing his search for Castiel, the manic desperation was clear to see. Dean’s been prone to obsessing over Cas more and more in the past few years. It’s not going to stop and Dean’s not going to listen or calm down until he has his angel safe with him again, or as close as any of them can get to safe. So Sam just settles in a spare seat at the table and watches anxiously.

 

Dean nods sharply at Chuck, swallowing once before tipping his head back and closing his eyes. Lucifer sprawls back in his chair, hands dangling over the armrests, eyes fixed mutinously on his father. They stare silently at each other for a long, odd moment and Sam feels as though he and Dean aren’t in the room any more, as though they’re hovering at the edges of something on a whole other level from them. Then the moment is over and Lucifer shuts his eyes with a sigh, slumping his shoulders a little. Sam waits, holding his breath for a sign of something happening. He watches Dean closely for several seconds before he’s interrupted by Chuck scraping back from the table, mug in hand.

 

“Time for a refill,” he remarks cheerfully, smiling at Sam. The Winchester blinks up at him.

 

“Wait, have you done it? Is Dean in with Cas?”

 

“Oh, yeah, took barely a moment,” Chuck says airily, moving towards the door. “You want tea or coffee? Hot chocolate? I can whip up a mean chai latte.”

 

Sam blinks again and glances at his still, silent brother. He lets out his breath and shrugs, forcing himself to relax. “Thanks, Chuck. A chai would be great.”

 

*

 

Dean opens his eyes to find himself staring at a wall. A familar wall. A wall that is far too close to the end of his nose.

 

Frowning, he stumbles back, his movements freezing up as he hears an extremely important voice pipe up behind him:

 

“... Dean?”

 

The human stares at the wall for another moment before slowly turning around, exhaling in a rush at what he sees. Confused, squinted blue eyes, lit by the dull glow of a television screen. Castiel is in front of a TV, hunched over the small device, sitting at the table which Dean knew would be there because this room is one he knows inside out. The bunker kitchen.

 

Why is Cas in an imaginary version of the bunker kitchen? And what the hell is he doing watching TV when he should be ejecting Lucifer? In a distant corner of his mind Dean is curious and angry and hurt but he can’t pay attention to that right now. He can’t seem to process anything but the pure fact that Cas is in front of him. Not a puppet or a parody. The real Cas, his Cas, and it’s been so long. Dean steps forward shakily, breathing the angel’s name with an embarrassingly obvious amount of longing and relief. Cas only squints harder at him.

 

“Are you really Dean?”

 

Dean huffs a humourless laugh at the irony of the question, considering what he’s been through with Lucifer wearing Cas like a morph suit. He nods though, eager to gain Cas’s trust and make the angel listen to him.

 

“Yeah. I came here to talk to you, since you’re letting Lucifer do all the driving. Shit, Cas, it’s good to see you.”

 

Cas blinks and Dean realises with unease that he looks sort of drugged. He’s barely moved, still slumped with his elbows on the table, face too close to the TV screen. His eyes aren’t as intense and focused as Dean remembers. Even when Cas was human, Dean remembers the way his scrutiny felt. He’s not feeling it now, and he wants it back. He walks forward slowly, rounding the table and crouching at Cas’s side. Lacklustre blue eyes follow him silently but Dean is relieved to hear a sharp intake of breath as Dean lays a gentle hand on Cas’s knee.

 

“Cas, please listen to me.” Dean is already begging, not willing to let his pride jeopardise this chance. “You don’t have to put up with Lucifer any more. He’s willing to leave you be if you tell him to. You can just say the word, and you’re free again.”

 

Cas stares down at him and Dean physically aches with emotion. He’s feeling so much at once and Cas is just looking at him, confused and weary. “What would be the point of that?”

 

Dean’s fingers curl reflexively with impotent distress. They dig at the inside of Cas’s knee in his frustration and Cas’s eyes flicker briefly to the point of contact.

 

“Point? What the... Cas, are you understanding me at all? You can come home.”

 

Cas frowns and eyes him doubtfully. “Heaven?”

 

Dean shuts his eyes, horrified to find that he’s hurtling towards actual tears. “No. Not Heaven. The bunker. I meant... I meant the bunker.”

 

There’s a short silence and Dean squeezes Cas’s knee harder, fighting to get his emotions under control enough to look at the angel again. Then Cas speaks. “You think that the bunker is my home?”

 

Dean lets go and opens his eyes then, scrambling to stand up and glare down at Cas. He gestures wildly around the room. “Don’t you?”

 

Cas is gazing up at him, rapt but still looking a little spaced out. He blinks and then glances around the room, straightening a little in his chair. He smiles sadly. “Yes. But what I think and feel is not often a reflection of how things really are.”

 

“I don’t know what that even means, dude. Look, bottom line is, you are free of Lucifer if you want to be. You can get your body back, stop creeping us all out. Lucifer can find another vessel.”

 

Cas stares blankly at the fridge as he ponders this. “Who?”

 

“For fuck’s sake,” groans Dean, turning sideways and slumping down to perch on the edge of the table, face in his hands. “I do not give a shit. OK?”

 

Dean digs his fingers into his forehead during the brief silence that follows this. When Cas replies, his voice is small but much more switched on than before.

 

“Why do you want me to eject him, Dean?”

 

Dean drops his hands and stares down at Cas in disbelief. The angel is peering up at him, seemingly genuine in his enquiry.

 

“Why the hell do you think? I need you back!”

 

Cas furrows his brow. “Yes, but for what?”

 

Dean’s stomach twists unpleasantly. He kneels again and throws caution through the wind and into the abyss, uncaring if he never sees it again. Grabbing Cas’s hands, he tugs the surprised being to face him.

 

“Pay attention,” he tells the baffled angel seriously. “This is important, OK? OK. When I say I need you, I do not mean that I need you for something in particular. What I mean is that I’m not... complete, without you. And however cheesy that shit sounds, it’s true. I don’t need you like I need rock salt in my gun or a devil’s trap to hold a demon. I need you like I need air or water. And it’s not just need, I don’t just need you back. I want you back. I miss you.”

 

Cas is open-mouthed, wide cerulean eyes now entirely alert and fixed on the hunter. Dean’s voice got a bit shaky towards the end there but he keeps his gaze steady and honest. He takes a deep breath and shakes his head, dropping his eyes to Cas’s tie.

 

“I can’t believe you’re making me say this,” he grumbles at the tie, before looking up at Cas again. “I kind of actually love you. Well, OK, there’s no kind of. I fucking adore you, Cas. And I’m sorry that I have never given you a reason to believe that. I’m paying for it now, though. If this is all some roundabout way of making me pull my head out of my ass then mission accomplished. So now that we’re clear... please, please come home. Please.”

 

There’s a silence after Dean speaks, broken only by the static of the TV. Cas looks flabbergasted, hands clutching at Dean’s fingers and posture utterly frozen. Dean can see himself dimly reflected in those saucer-like blue eyes. He looks pained and impatient, waiting for a response. He tilts an ear towards the stunned angel, vulnerability making him irritable and sarcastic.

 

“Anything?” he says, his voice a little higher than usual. “Come on, man, I literally just declared my love to you, you could at least-”

 

“Alright.”

 

Cas barely moves his parted lips and his voice is faint, but he definitely speaks. Dean blinks up at him.

 

“Alright?” he repeats. Cas nods minutely, his grip on Dean’s hands painful now.

 

“I want to come home, Dean,” he whispers, looking almost surprised at his own words. Dean is a little concerned about Cas’s seized up demeanour but he can’t deny the fierce joy that sweeps through him when he understands that he’s done it. He’s gotten Cas back. He breaks into the first genuine grin he’s worn since losing Cas and he has to stop himself from kissing the angel right there. But he doesn’t want to freak Cas out any further and besides, they’re imaginary and inside the Devil. Assuming that Cas actually wants to kiss him, Dean wants it to be good. Maybe even romantic. Jesus, he’s whipped already. Standing up, he tugs Cas stiffly to his feet too and wraps the bewildered creature in a warm hug, smiling into his shoulder.

 

“Thank you,” he breathes, and he can’t deny the smug, breathless thrill he feels when Cas all but melts into his arms, sighing his name and sliding tentative hands around to rest on the hunter’s back. They stand like that for several seconds and Dean thinks rather mushily that if he’s selfish about one thing for the rest of his days, it’ll be this. Claiming every moment of affection from Cas that the angel is willing to give, unashamedly and greedily. He squeezes once before pulling away, swallowing at the awestruck wonder on Cas’s face.

 

“Ready, Chuck,” Dean calls softly, still staring at Cas. The angel frowns in confusion and Dean blanches as he realises what Cas still doesn’t know. What he totally forgot to reveal to him because quite frankly, loving Cas is just more important to him than the return of the ultimate deity.

 

“Shit, Cas,” Dean says even as the room begins to glow. “There’s something I probably should have mentioned...”


End file.
